


river fern valley

by millimallow



Series: the world of owa [8]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 01:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17592320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millimallow/pseuds/millimallow
Summary: the 9th part of the world of owa series.after the full moon, after the wartime, is you.





	river fern valley

today is a very special birthday for me. i see it in the eyes of my family and my friends, all envious with glee at their oldest classmate. none of them will tell me exactly what’s going to happen, but i know it’s exciting. i’m going to be ten years old.

my grandma said i should bring along my diary and write down the story that she’ll tell me tonight. i know i’m very good at writing, in common and takkani. so the little bit under today is going to be the story she tells me instead of about my day. she said after the story we can cook outside and i can stay up past my bedtime to enjoy it. and that i’m going to get a very special gift. but everything is very hush about that special gift, and my parents have been spending lots of time trying to stop me sneaking around and looking at it.

see you later, diary. i’ll have an exciting tale to tell you later!

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

once and a long time ago, there was a girl only little more than your age who would sit on the stone wall of her home to look over the mountain. it was too steep to see the lowlanders, except for when they tried to climb up and shoot their arrows at our people. at night, under the cover of dark, she would go back indoors and dream of the night sky, lights off to hide the building from attacks.

back then we were not at peace and union with the lowlanders. we were similar, and we came from the same people, but our land was ours. when they wanted to take it, we had no choice but to resist or surrender. and resistance is a long, hard burden. people like us were afraid- unable to drive our cattle along the mountainside trails in open air, too vulnerable to leave the mountains. we had our own archers, and our own defenses, but these only kept us locked in a stalemate. that’s when nobody can win, and everyone is stuck. and when they went down the mountains, not everyone came back.

we were too few, and there were no answers. but this girl, much like you, went to school. when she got older she went for long hours to an academy, trekking on foot in whatever weather. snow, hail, rain- this was the price she paid for her education. at her desk, she would study magic. you know that most of us become rangers, but we do not ignore the weave entirely. she was to become a wizard. and for a wizard to use their spells, they need materials. at her desk she would sit, long after classes ended, combining her powders and her extracts to produce something, anything, with the necessary magical potency. it was harder back then to do those things. our knowledge grows as time passes.

at the time, the most valuable magical item was strands from river fern valley, right after a full moon. during peacetime, when the sun began to rise over the horizon we would come out in our droves, picking the plants from the bed. during wartime? it is not a pretty picture, but if we were caught, we would be slaughtered like fish in a barrel. supplies were scarce, and research was falling. her academy only had a few small drawers left. during one cold night, the fire was set on as high as it possibly could be, despite words of protest and warning. a spark from the fireplace- the ornate gold-trimmed guard had been sold- it was all that was needed to set the place alight. students could crowd the study room all they wanted, firing spell after spell, but all that was possible was saving the building. the most valuable supplies, including the river ferns, had been destroyed.

the distraught students bought the dust and remnants to our hero. like you, she was a respected student who knew much about takka magic and the world. woken up in the night to the distressed crowd at her door, she accepted. but she was unsure of what to do, and so she stepped outside her lodgings to the balcony. all so she could look at the stars she admired so much during her youth. hoping for an answer. with no torches to light the ground around her, only a clutch of matches lying on her desk with the dust, she picked one with which to light her small personal furnace. and when she did, the fire burst and roared. such a tiny amount of dust had caused a great reaction.

so she set out to work. with only a tiny amount of dust left around from the ferns and the other components, she experimented. a bigger explosion, a bigger flame. she used the powder and the match to fire a metal pellet- one of the few things left untouched- into scrap meat and trimmings from the kitchen. when it went in without exiting, something new was found. experiments with wood began- portable tubes, metallic elements, a trigger for the explosion. secret missions to the valley, people risking their lives. but when we stood at the top of the mountain, looking down at our lowland cousins, we were able to show them something they had never imagined. not just our weapons, but their ranks fleeing in fear, terrified horses buckling from the sound it all created, blood on their pelts.

and we no longer had surrender in our hearts and minds.

 a truce was soon declared. there was a realization between us and the lowlanders that we had caused each other enough injury for many lifetimes to come. today, we hold and keep the pistol as a remembrance of our legacy. that is our history. but in the name of the hero who set us free, we honour our youth. the ones who create a future for our people and our cuture. only progress can set people free, you understand? when the world changes, you cannot give up.

today, i hand you your first real bull mask. it has a black ribbon which you can tie behind your hair. you cannot have a weapon, not until you have spent enough time in play to distinguish the two. through it, please look to the past and the future, across our vast mountain territory.


End file.
